Chapter 8 - Being Editors

It was Albert's uncle who thought of our trying a newspaper. He said he
thought we should not find the bandit business a paying industry, as a
permanency, and that journalism might be.

We had sold Noel's poetry and that piece of information about Lord
Tottenham to the good editor, so we thought it would not be a bad idea
to have a newspaper of our own. We saw plainly that editors must be
very rich and powerful, because of the grand office and the man in the
glass case, like a museum, and the soft carpets and big writing-table.
Besides our having seen a whole handful of money that the editor pulled
out quite carelessly from his trousers pocket when he gave me my five
bob.

Dora wanted to be editor and so did Oswald, but he gave way to her
because she is a girl, and afterwards he knew that it is true what it
says in the copy-books about Virtue being its own Reward. Because you've
no idea what a bother it is. Everybody wanted to put in everything just
as they liked, no matter how much room there was on the page. It was
simply awful! Dora put up with it as long as she could and then she
said if she wasn't let alone she wouldn't go on being editor; they could
be the paper's editors themselves, so there.

Then Oswald said, like a good brother: 'I will help you if you like,
Dora,' and she said, 'You're more trouble than all the rest of them!
Come and be editor and see how you like it. I give it up to you.' But
she didn't, and we did it together. We let Albert-next-door be sub-
editor, because he had hurt his foot with a nail in his boot that
gathered.

When it was done Albert-next-door's uncle had it copied for us in
typewriting, and we sent copies to all our friends, and then of course
there was no one left that we could ask to buy it. We did not think of
that until too late. We called the paper the Lewisham Recorder;
Lewisham because we live there, and Recorder in memory of the good
editor. I could write a better paper on my head, but an editor is not
allowed to write all the paper. It is very hard, but he is not. You
just have to fill up with what you can get from other writers. If I
ever have time I will write a paper all by myself. It won't be patchy.
We had no time to make it an illustrated paper, but I drew the ship
going down with all hands for the first copy. But the typewriter can't
draw ships, so it was left out in the other copies. The time the first
paper took to write out no one would believe! This was the Newspaper:

THE LEWISHAM RECORDER

EDITORS: DORA AND OSWALD BASTABLE

- - - - - -
EDITORIAL NOTE

Every paper is written for some reason. Ours is because we want to sell
it and get money. If what we have written brings happiness to any sad
heart we shall not have laboured in vain. But we want the money too.
Many papers are content with the sad heart and the happiness, but we are
not like that, and it is best not to be deceitful. EDITORS.

There will be two serial stories; One by Dicky and one by all of us. In
a serial story you only put in one chapter at a time. But we shall put
all our serial story at once, if Dora has time to copy it. Dicky's will
come later on.

SERIAL STORY
BY US ALL

CHAPTER I - by Dora

The sun was setting behind a romantic-looking tower when two strangers
might have been observed descending the crest of the hill. The eldest,
a man in the prime of life; the other a handsome youth who reminded
everybody of Quentin Durward. They approached the Castle, in which the
fair Lady Alicia awaited her deliverers. She leaned from the
castellated window and waved her lily hand as they approached. They
returned her signal, and retired to seek rest and refreshment at a
neighbouring hostelry.

- - - - - -
CHAPTER II - by Alice

The Princess was very uncomfortable in the tower, because her fairy
godmother had told her all sorts of horrid things would happen if she
didn't catch a mouse every day, and she had caught so many mice that now
there were hardly any left to catch. So she sent her carrier pigeon to
ask the noble Strangers if they could send her a few mice - because she
would be of age in a few days and then it wouldn't matter. So the fairy
godmother - - (I'm very sorry, but there's no room to make the chapters
any longer.-ED.)

- - - - - -
CHAPTER III - by the Sub-Editor

(I can't - I'd much rather not - I don't know how.)

- - - - - -
CHAPTER IV - by Dicky

I must now retrace my steps and tell you something about our hero. You
must know he had been to an awfully jolly school, where they had turkey
and goose every day for dinner, and never any mutton, and as many helps
of pudding as a fellow cared to send up his plate for - so of course they
had all grown up very strong, and before he left school he challenged
the Head to have it out man to man, and he gave it him, I tell you.
That was the education that made him able to fight Red Indians, and to
be the stranger who might have been observed in the first chapter.

- - - - - -
CHAPTER V - by Noel

I think it's time something happened in this story. So then the dragon
he came out, blowing fire out of his nose, and he said -

'Come on, you valiant man and true, I'd like to have a set-to along of
you!'

'My blade is sharp, my axe is keen,
You're not nearly as big as a good many
dragons I've seen.'

(Don't put in so much poetry, Noel. It's not fair, because none of the
others can do it. - ED.)

And then they went at it, and he beat the dragon, just as he did the
Head in Dicky's part of the Story, and so he married the Princess, and
they lived - - (No they didn't - not till the last chapter. - ED.)

- - - - - -
CHAPTER VI - by H. O.

I think it's a very nice Story - but what about the mice? I don't want
to say any more. Dora can have what's left of my chapter.

- - - - - -
CHAPTER VII - by the Editors

And so when the dragon was dead there were lots of mice, because he used
to kill them for his tea but now they rapidly multiplied and ravaged the
country, so the fair lady Alicia, sometimes called the Princess, had to
say she would not marry any one unless they could rid the country of
this plague of mice. Then the Prince, whose real name didn't begin with
N, but was Osrawalddo, waved his magic sword, and the dragon stood
before them, bowing gracefully. They made him promise to be good, and
then they forgave him; and when the wedding breakfast came, all the
bones were saved for him. And so they were married and lived happy ever
after.

(What became of the other stranger? - NOEL. The dragon ate him because he
asked too many questions. - EDITORS.)

This is the end of the story.

INSTRUCTIVE

It only takes four hours and a quarter now to get from London to
Manchester; but I should not think any one would if they could help it.

A DREADFUL WARNING. A wicked boy told me a very instructive thing about
ginger. They had opened one of the large jars, and he happened to take
out quite a lot, and he made it all right by dropping marbles in, till
there was as much ginger as before. But he told me that on the Sunday,
when it was coming near the part where there is only juice generally, I
had no idea what his feelings were. I don't see what he could have said
when they asked him. I should be sorry to act like it.

- - - - - -
SCIENTIFIC

Experiments should always be made out of doors. And don't use
benzoline. - DICKY. (That was when he burnt his eyebrows off. - ED.)

The earth is 2,400 miles round, and 800 through - at least I think so,
but perhaps it's the other way. - DICKY. (You ought to have been sure
before you began. - ED.)

- - - - - -
SCIENTIFIC COLUMN

In this so-called Nineteenth Century Science is but too little
considered in the nurseries of the rich and proud. But we are not like
that.

It is not generally known that if you put bits of camphor in luke-warm
water it will move about. If you drop sweet oil in, the camphor will
dart away and then stop moving. But don't drop any till you are tired
of it, because the camphor won't any more afterwards. Much amusement
and instruction is lost by not knowing things like this.

If you put a sixpence under a shilling in a wine-glass, and blow hard
down the side of the glass, the sixpence will jump up and sit on the top
of the shilling. At least I can't do it myself, but my cousin can. He
is in the Navy.

- - - - - -
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS

Noel. You are very poetical, but I am sorry to say it will not do.

Alice. Nothing will ever make your hair curl, so it's no use. Some
people say it's more important to tidy up as you go along. I don't mean
you in particular, but every one.

H. O. We never said you were tubby, but the Editor does not know any
cure.

Noel. If there is any of the paper over when this newspaper is
finished, I will exchange it for your shut-up inkstand, or the knife
that has the useful thing in it for taking stones out of horses' feet,
but you can't have it without.

H. O. There are many ways how your steam engine might stop working. You
might ask Dicky. He knows one of them. I think it is the way yours
stopped.

Noel. If you think that by filling the garden with sand you can make
crabs build their nests there you are not at all sensible.

You have altered your poem about the battle of Waterloo so often, that
we cannot read it except where the Duke waves his sword and says some
thing we can't read either. Why did you write it on blotting-paper with
purple chalk? - ED. (Because YOU KNOW WHO sneaked my pencil. - NOEL.)

- - - - - -
POETRY

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And the way he came down was awful, I'm told;
But it's nothing to the way one of the Editors comes down on me,
If I crumble my bread-and-butter or spill my tea.
NOEL.
- - - - - -
CURIOUS FACTS

If you hold a guinea-pig up by his tail his eyes drop out.

You can't do half the things yourself that children in books do, making
models or soon. I wonder why? - ALICE.

If you take a date's stone out and put in an almond and eat them
together, it is prime. I found this out. - SUB-EDITOR.

If you put your wet hand into boiling lead it will not hurt you if you
draw it out quickly enough. I have never tried this. - DORA.

- - - - - -
THE PURRING CLASS

(Instructive Article)

If I ever keep a school everything shall be quite different. Nobody
shall learn anything they don't want to. And sometimes instead of
having masters and mistresses we will have cats, and we will dress up in
cat skins and learn purring. 'Now, my dears,' the old cat will say,
'one, two, three all purr together,' and we shall purr like anything.

She won't teach us to mew, but we shall know how without teaching.
Children do know some things without being taught. - ALICE.

It is a mistake to think that cats are playful. I often try to
get a cat to play with me, and she never seems to care about the
game, no matter how little it hurts. - H. O.

Making pots and pans with clay is fun, but do not tell the
grown-ups. It is better to surprise them; and then you must say
at once how easily it washes off - much easier than ink. - DICKY.

- - - - - -
SAM REDFERN, OR THE BUSH RANGER'S BURIAL

By Dicky

'Well, Annie, I have bad news for you,' said Mr Ridgway, as he entered
the comfortable dining-room of his cabin in the Bush. 'Sam Redfern the
Bushranger is about this part of the Bush just now. I hope he will not
attack us with his gang.'

Just then came a knock at the door of the hut, and a gruff voice asked
them to open the door.

'It is Sam Redfern the Bushranger, father,' said the girl.

'The same,' responded the voice, and the next moment the hall door was
smashed in, and Sam Redfern sprang in, followed by his gang.

- - - - - -
CHAPTER II

Annie's Father was at once overpowered, and Annie herself lay bound with
cords on the drawing-room sofa. Sam Redfern set a guard round the
lonely hut, and all human aid was despaired of. But you never know. Far
away in the Bush a different scene was being enacted.

'Must be Injuns,' said a tall man to himself as he pushed his way
through the brushwood. It was Jim Carlton, the celebrated detective.
'I know them,' he added; 'they are Apaches.' just then ten Indians in
full war-paint appeared. Carlton raised his rifle and fired, and
slinging their scalps on his arm he hastened towards the humble log hut
where resided his affianced bride, Annie Ridgway, sometimes known as the
Flower of the Bush.

- - - - - -
CHAPTER III

The moon was low on the horizon, and Sam Redfern was seated at a
drinking bout with some of his boon companions.

They had rifled the cellars of the hut, and the rich wines flowed like
water in the golden goblets of Mr Ridgway.

But Annie had made friends with one of the gang, a noble, good-hearted
man who had joined Sam Redfern by mistake, and she had told him to go
and get the police as quickly as possible.

'Ha! ha!' cried Redfern, 'now I am enjoying myself!' He little knew that
his doom was near upon him.

Just then Annie gave a piercing scream, and Sam Redfern got up, seizing
his revolver. 'Who are you?' he cried, as a man entered.

'I am Jim Carlton, the celebrated detective,' said the new arrival.

Sam Redfern's revolver dropped from his nerveless fingers, but the next
moment he had sprung upon the detective with the well-known activity of
the mountain sheep, and Annie shrieked, for she had grown to love the
rough Bushranger.

(To be continued at the end of the paper if there is room.)

- - - - - -
SCHOLASTIC

A new slate is horrid till it is washed in milk. I like the green spots
on them to draw patterns round. I know a good way to make a slate-
pencil squeak, but I won't put it in because I don't want to make it
common. - SUB-EDITOR.

Peppermint is a great help with arithmetic. The boy who was second in
the Oxford Local always did it. He gave me two. The examiner said to
him, 'Are you eating peppermints?' And he said, 'No, Sir.'

He told me afterwards it was quite true, because he was only sucking
one. I'm glad I wasn't asked. I should never have thought of that, and
I could have had to say 'Yes.' - OSWALD.

- - - - - -
THE WRECK OF THE 'MALABAR'

By Noel

(Author of 'A Dream of Ancient Ancestors.') He isn't really - but
he put it in to make it seem more real.

Hark! what is that noise of rolling
Waves and thunder in the air?
'Tis the death-knell of the sailors
And officers and passengers of the good ship Malabar.

It was a fair and lovely noon
When the good ship put out of port
And people said 'ah little we think
How soon she will be the elements' sport.'

She was indeed a lovely sight
Upon the billows with sails spread.
But the captain folded his gloomy arms,
Ah - if she had been a life-boat instead!

See the captain stern yet gloomy
Flings his son upon a rock,
Hoping that there his darling boy
May escape the wreck.

Alas in vain the loud winds roared
And nobody was saved.
That was the wreck of the Malabar,
Then let us toll for the brave.
NOEL.

- - - - - -
GARDENING NOTES

It is useless to plant cherry-stones in the hope of eating the fruit,
because they don't!

Alice won't lend her gardening tools again, because the last time Noel
left them out in the rain, and I don't like it. He said he didn't.

- - - - - -
SEEDS AND BULBS

These are useful to play at shop with, until you are ready. Not at
dinner-parties, for they will not grow unless uncooked. Potatoes are
not grown with seed, but with chopped-up potatoes. Apple trees are grown
from twigs, which is less wasteful.

Oak trees come from acorns. Every one knows this. When Noel says he
could grow one from a peach stone wrapped up in oak leaves, he shows
that he knows nothing about gardening but marigolds, and when I passed
by his garden I thought they seemed just like weeds now the flowers have
been picked.

A boy once dared me to eat a bulb.

Dogs are very industrious and fond of gardening. Pincher is always
planting bones, but they never grow up. There couldn't be a bone tree.
I think this is what makes him bark so unhappily at night. He has never
tried planting dog-biscuit, but he is fonder of bones, and perhaps he
wants to be quite sure about them first.

- - - - - -
SAM REDFERN, OR THE BUSHRANGER'S BURIAL

By Dicky

CHAPTER IV AND LAST

This would have been a jolly good story if they had let me finish it at
the beginning of the paper as I wanted to. But now I have forgotten how
I meant it to end, and I have lost my book about Red Indians, and all my
Boys of England have been sneaked. The girls say 'Good riddance!' so I
expect they did it. They want me just to put in which Annie married, but
I shan't, so they will never know.

We have now put everything we can think of into the paper. It takes a
lot of thinking about. I don't know how grown-ups manage to write all
they do. It must make their heads ache, especially lesson books.

Albert-next-door only wrote one chapter of the serial story, but he
could have done some more if he had wanted to. He could not write out
any of the things because he cannot spell. He says he can, but it takes
him such a long time he might just as well not be able. There are one
or two things more. I am sick of it, but Dora says she will write them
in.

LEGAL ANSWER WANTED. A quantity of excellent string is offered if you
know whether there really is a law passed about not buying gunpowder
under thirteen. - DICKY.

The price of this paper is one shilling each, and sixpence extra for the
picture of the Malabar going down with all hands. If we sell one
hundred copies we will write another paper.

And so we would have done, but we never did. Albert-next-door's uncle
gave us two shillings, that was all. You can't restore fallen fortunes
with two shillings!